Phone Calls and Alcohol
by Fallen Ark Angel
Summary: Paul and Steph get caught up in a struggle between wants and needs, leaving life to remind them which is more important. - One-shot.


He about knocked the phone and its base to the floor as, in the darkness of the late hour, Paul rooted around on his bedside table to find the damned thing and pick it up.

Anything to get it to stop ringing.

Other than, like, lifting his head out of his pillow and actually looking for it.

When the answering machine beeped, letting him know it was picking up the call, he about gave up and just let it do so. It was late at night, so it was obviously important, but he was being summoned from a dead sleep and wasn't thinking straight.

Then he heard the voice on the other end.

"Paul, are you there? Pick up. Please?"

Shoving up finally, it was just long enough to reach over with bleary eyes and grab the wireless phone off the hook and shove it against his ear as he fell back into his pillow.

"What's wrong?" he got out as his senses came back to him a bit. "Did something happen?"

It was silent then, on the other end, for a good twenty seconds before, softly, he heard. "No. I just wanna talk to you."

"Stephanie," he groaned as he about just dropped the phone. "It's the middle of the night."

"I miss you."

"We can't do this."

"We can't talk?"

"You know what I mean. I was asleep. I gotta go. Just-"

"Please? I need you."

It was his turn to be silent, swallowing a bit as he thought. "Are you drunk? You sound like you've been crying."

"Yes," she admitted softly, never one to lie. To him anyways. "To both."

"Stephie-"

"If you don't care-"

"Don't act like this."

"Just hang up then. If you don't wanna talk, hang up."

"You're such a fucking child."

That time the silence was mutual as he, obviously, didn't hang up, but neither did she. They just sat there.

Then she sniffled.

"Stephanie-"

"I'm lonely. I'm always lonely. This isn't fair. I just wanna be with you."

"We can't."

"We can't be together," she clarified in that whiny high-pitched voice she used when she was upset and really gave him a headache. "But we used to talk all the time before we were together. Why can't we just be that then?"

"Steph, you're just drunk. Go to bed."

"I can't."

"What happened?"

She took a noisy breath and, with one of his own, Paul rolled onto his back, blinking up into the darkness of his bedroom.

"I went out with some of my friends and we were drinking and I just… It's not fair."

"Life's not fair, baby." A hand came up to rub at his face a bit. "You know that."

"I wanna be with you."

"You can't always have what you want either. You know that too."

"Don't you wanna be with me?"

"Steph, Vince is… It's just better, okay? If we just… I'll see you at work. At that meeting. You'll feel better then. I promise. But if we keep talking-"

"If we keep talkin'," she mimicked, "you'll come?"

"Baby, I'm not driving four hours to have this conversation. We've had it. Alone. With Vince. I...can't anymore, Steph. Even just talk about it. It's not happening. I care about you, but we can't. And that's just it. My whole life isn't going to be staked on you and I wouldn't want yours to be me either. We're not...gonna be together. Just be an adult about it and move on."

If he wanted her off the phone, that last sentence wasn't advised.

"I am an adult." That sniffle was more out of anger. "And that's why he can't do this. He can't tell me who I can and can't-"

"Adults have bosses, Steph. And he's one of 'em." Shaking his head to himself, he said, "Just let it go. It was…nice. But… You knew that this would happen. That..."

"I care about you, Paul. And you didn't care about me at all, did you?"

"Stephanie-"

"You said you did. All the fucking time, but you're just a liar. You tried to use me, didn't you?"

"Don't start."

"I'm not," she repeated, "a child. Don't tell me what to do."

"Then don't act that way. Whining isn't going to fix anything. All you're doing is working yourself up over nothing and-"

"Because this was all nothing to you, right?"

"I'm close, Steph, to just hanging up."

"Then do it. Because you don't care. It was just a game and Daddy ended it and now you're tired of me and-"

"Fuck, Stephanie, what do you want? Huh? If I didn't give a damn," he griped, sitting up then as he glared across the room, his reflection in the mirror above the dresser doing the same back at him, "then I wouldn't have even answered. If this was nothing, I would hang up. What the fuck do you want from me? To lose my job over you? Will that prove it?"

"No! I-"

"You want me to cry over the phone with you? Huh? And bitch and moan about something that we can't change? To get drunk and throw a pity party?"

"I didn't-"

"You want me to call Vince? Right now? You wanna? We can together. Three way call and tell him to fuck off? Huh? Is that what you want?"

"Paul-"

"Or do you want me to not want you? Is that it? Will it make you feel better? If I just fucking say that I don't care at all? Will it make this all justified? Will just go to fucking bed if I do that?"

"You're not-"

"What do you want, Stephanie?" he asked. "If you're not a fucking child, then just say it. Tell me what you want and I'll give it to you. Just fucking say it."

"I want you to want me, Paul. As much as I want you."

Sitting there for a moment, he watched himself in the mirror, trying to find a way to take the anger out of his voice.

It wasn't easy.

Slowly, finding the ceiling a far less creepy thing to glare at, he sank into the bed once more.

"Why do you think I don't?"

That wasn't what she was expecting either, it seemed, as there was just the sound of some of her teary breathing before, "Because you're not acting like it."

"Steph, I'm not going to cry over something I can't change. You're dad doesn't like it. And he's right. It sucks, business wise, and…" His grin was false and he was thankful he didn't have to stare at it in the mirror as he said, "I like you a lot. More than I thought I would, you know, when we first started… But this isn't stable. This isn't real. And all this just proves it. I'm not going to fight-"

"For me." She was picking what she wanted out of his words, but he tried not to be angry, attributing this more to her drunkenness than her lack of understanding (or caring to, rather). "You're not gonna fight for me."

That wasn't what he was going to say. He was going to say that he wasn't going to fight for something that might not last. Something that already, honestly, had some holes before Vince started poking through more.

It was on his tongue though, after her words, almost immediately. That of course he would. Because he did care. Because he did want to be with her.

Which he did. To both.

But…

"There's no fight, Steph," he told her finally. "It's be with you and lose everything or not be with you and keep everything. There's nothing to fight over. Vince made it clear. If I' with you, I'm not with his company. That's just it. There's no negotiations. It's just all gone."

"So you'd rather I'd just be gone?"

"What do you want, Stephanie?" he asked again. "For me to say no?"

"I want you to say all the things you did before this. I want you to tell me that you care about me and that you're not going anywhere, no matter what anyone says, and I want you in my bed and-"

"Steph, that was just...talk. You know that. It was all just-"

"Lies."

"Not lies."

"You're a liar."

"Steph, how many relationships have you been in before me? Serious ones?" That got her to be quiet. "And how many times did you tell him...or them...or whatever that it was forever? Ever fucking time? Because that's who you are. You fall in love. That's fine. I… I cared about you a lot too. I still do. But… It's just over, baby. Let it go."

It took a few moments before he got a pitiful, "I don't want to," back.

Sighing, Paul's eyes fell shut. "I know. I don't either. I really did like you, Steph. I do like you. And it's shit, isn't it? All of it. I wasn't lying to you. I do wanna be with you. I do wanna tell everyone else to go fuck themselves, that I'm just going to be with you and that's it but… I can't. We can't."

That didn't get a response out of her, but Paul could still hear her there, breathing, and shifting to his side, he continued.

"It was just fun, Steph. You were fun. I do think you're funny. And cute. And I like all the stupid things you say. I like just sitting around, listening to music with you. Just eating dinner. Sleeping. Fuck, Steph; I just like you. But...I can't put my entire life on liking somebody. I've never been with someone I didn't like. And yeah it felt...different, this time, but it's always different. Isn't it for you?"

Again, he got no answer, bust still, he went on.

"If it had just been," he began, "me leaving my girlfriend for you, fine. Whatever. But that's not it. It's not enough. Liking someone. Being around them. To throw away an entire career. It's gonna hurt too, you know? For a while? And we still gotta fucking work together. Fuck, I'm gonna hate, when you're… You're gonna be with someone else, eventually, and so am I, and it's gonna suck, but we did it to ourselves. And if we had let it keep going, it would only suck more. At least it's Vince, right? That's making us… Because we're still friends. Or I wanna be. Not...we can't ever bee like we were, but… I'm not bullshitting you. I like talking to you. I like being around you. You make me feel good. And you've never not."

That time, he couldn't even hear her breathing.

"But you can't keep doing this to me. Calling me. Talking about this. Enough. Tonight's enough. It's over. We're not ever going to date again or sleep together or...whatever. It just done. That's it. Wee're broken up. I can't keep… If you would just stop trying to think of ways for us to be together, stop wanting it, and just try to move on, you'd quit wanting it. Just give it time. Stop worrying about it. I'm not that special. Promise."

He had nothing more to say then and, for a moment, thought Steph had either fallen asleep on him or dropped the phone or something else idiotic. No. But she did have something idiotic to say, after nearly a minute of not saying anything.

"I just love you."

Done. Paul was done. He'd gotten everything out and that was just that. He wasn't going to go in circles for her, placate her current state, because it just wasn't fair. He didn't do this shit to her. And she had to stop doing it to him.

"You're drunk, Stephanie." His voice had steel behind it them. "Don't call me like this again. Sober up and forget it. It's over. Get over. I'll see you at work."

He hung up before being sucked back in. All it would take was one whine or complaint of how harsh he was being, after being so nice for so long, after lying for so long, one hint of a sob and he'd be back at the start, trying once more to convince her it was over.

He just couldn't do it anymore.

Reaching over to place the phone back on the hook, Paul felt the silence about as much as he did that tightness that was forming in his stomach.

Honestly, he was expecting her to call again, but apparently, she was either too drunk to manage or just honestly didn't want to. He hoped it was the latter. That Stephanie got the message and they could just be over. He wanted them to be over. He wasn't going to be with her again and he just wanted to move on with his life already.

What was left of it, anyways.

Just breaking up with Steph was what Vince said he wanted, but ever being with her in the first place had hurt Paul's standing with the man. With everyone. It'd lost him his girlfriend. Not Steph, but his actual on. The locker room. A fuckload of sleep.

And all of it for what?

Nothing.

Because Stephanie was still unattainable.

She was wanting him to fight, to put up a big struggle, to put all his cards on the table, but hadn't he already? The last thing he had left was his job. He'd lost alll the rest. Did she really want that to be taken from him to? Would that prove it?

It. What was it? What did she want? That's what he kept asking and got a bunch of bullshit for answers. For him to want her? He did. But he couldn't have her. For him to care about her? He did. But it didn't matter. For him to give up everything for her? He did.

Didn't he?

It wasn't fair. That's what she kept saying. That Vince was being unfair, that the situation was unfair, and it was just all unfair.

He agreed, to an extent, but he thought at the same time she could fall into the same category.

Stephanie kept accusing him of lying. Of telling her things that weren't true. And maybe he did, but he never meant to. When they were alone together, it just all came out. Whatever he was thinking. Whatever he was wanting. And it was always her. She was the one on his mind, she was the one that he needed, and that just came out in stupid little shit that you always say when you're…..when you…

She wanted him to defy Vince. To say screw it to the one job he'd always wanted. For her. That was only something that sounded good on paper.

It was just like her though. To put it off on him. All of it. That if he wanted her, he'd be with her. When she called, he should just come. With no repercussions for herself. He'd lose his job if Vince thought they were still sneaking around. But what happened to her/ She'd get in a little fight with her father and just move on/ How was that fair?

It wasn't. The world might be unfair to Stephanie, but she was certainly returning the favor to him.

Still, he kept getting hung up on it as he laid there, watching the digital clock that rested beside his phone, slowly ticking away the time, minute by minute, thinking about it.

What if...what if he was supposed to be with Steph?

Shifting once more, he rested on his other side, facing the window, listening to a dog bark in the distance.

Paul liked Steph. He liked her a lot. He didn't...love her or anything, but I they weren't working together, he could have seen leaving his already dying relationship and trying at a real one with her. He had fun with Steph. Not in the way he would have expected either. Yeah, they could relate about things up at work and talk about them but when they were away from that place, it was usually the last thing on their minds.

She liked listening to his loud, screechy music. Enjoyed watching him work out, talk about working out, or even just discussing whatever supplements he was on. Not in a serious way, like it would be with any of his bodybuilder friends, or his ex. In a...cute way.

Steph was cute.

She asked dumb questions and had stupid responses to things and, yeah, she knew enough about that sorta stuff, but it wasn't her life like it was for most people he hung around. She could talk about different protein powders, but they weren't all the same to him. It was serious to him. And she could sit and listen to him talk about it without having an adverse opinion because she saw what he said as fact.

Actually, this was true for most things.

Steph wasn't...sheltered, of course, but she didn't have to do a lot of things for herself growing up. Especially the older she got. Her father had money and took care of her. That was fine. Then she went away to college and didn't have to bust her ass at a job to help pay for it. That was fine too.

Now though, she was out of it and working, seriously working, for the company and didn't want her parents helping with any of that.

Stephanie was growing up.

She was grown up.

And she had a lot to learn about it. Stuff that he already knew. He'd been on his own for years compared to her couple and had life pretty figured out from that stand point. He knew a lot of his lessons didn't apply, but in case they ever did, he talked about them anyways.

Budgeting your money when you were low. What did you absolutely _have_ to eat versus what could you put back when you were low on cash and at the store. Cable wasn't that important, but the electricity bill sure was. Crashing at hotels with the right people in the company because the wrong ones could trash the place and then you're stuck with half the bill too.

Stupid stuff that didn't affect Stephanie, really, as even if she blew through all her money, Paul knew her father would never let her fall too far, but stuff that you still had to learn.

One day, when they were hanging out and kinda fucking around on one another, but nothing serious yet, he showed up at her place in Connecticut and showed her how to change the oil on her car.

Life stuff. Steph didn't know a lot of real life stuff. Most the women he dated, seriously dated, did. Because that's what he went for. Tough chicks that could take or leave him (but it was always nice when they took him) and he could do the same. Steph was different.

She was…

So fucking innocent.

That sounded stupid and he'd hate to say it aloud, but it was true. Steph trusted people. Like serious trusted them. In a way he didn't know most people to do so. If you told her something, she believed you. She believed in you.

Gullible, maybe, was a better word for it, but not with him. Because that would imply trickery and he never intended to do that to her. At all.

Yeah, fine, in the back of his head, he knew that they would end this way. That it would all come crashing down. So maybe he was a liar. But he thought that she knew so too.

But…

It went back to the truth thing. She didn't see their fake relationship as crumbling because he swore it wouldn't. That he cared for her. That he wanted to be with her. Vince he damned. He said that a lot. Actually, what he said was fuck Vince. And he meant it.

Or he did.

Until it came time to put his money (and career) where his mouth was.

Falling onto his back once more, Paul let out a long breath.

Maybe he was tricking Stephanie. If he knew all this about her and still led her on. Was he leading her on? Maybe. He was a dirty, sneaky cheat who was now more worried about the woman he was cheating with than the girlfriend who he'd probably made those same promises to over the course of years and had more weight behind them given this fact.

Did that make him a douche?

Or something?

When he shoved up, Paul didn't get out of bed, but did move to rest his feet on the floor, just sitting there on the side of the bed, staring into his open closet now.

What he said to Steph was true, anyways, that night. Yeah, it sucked, but if she would just put him out of her mind, she'd move on pretty quickly, he was sure. If it was that easy for her to fall for him, then it should be just as simple for her to fall for someone else.

Right?

Right.

Unless…

Was there a reason that it felt so easy for them? For them to just be together? Was he missing something? Or just blatantly ignoring it?

He wasn't saying that he belonged with Steph or that they were going to be together forever or something stupid shit like that, but…

Everything always felt right. Even when she was mad at him or he was getting shit from his girlfriend and trying taking it out on her, it never felt horrible. Being with one another. It wasn't always nice, but was always…

Comfortable. He was more comfortable with Stephanie than he'd ever been with another woman. And yeah fine, they weren't in a real relationship, not an open one where they could just be with one another without worrying about the consequences, and sure the grass is always greener on the other side, but even when he and Steph's had some weeds or was browning a bit, he had no problem with bending down to pluck them or dragging a long water hose over to douse the problem area.

Was it not enough, then, for him to even be contemplating what he was, so late at night? When he knew what the correct answer was, as far as work went, and yet still couldn't quite commit to it in his head?

When he pushed up, Paul headed to his bathroom in pitch blackness, not thinking to flick on even a lamp. He didn't feel like it. The darkness suited him.

Standing over the toilet, he already knew what he had to do. He wasn't even done pissing before he was already done trying to talk himself out of it. He had to go see Steph.

And that was just the end of it.

Not that he didn't try and talk himself out of it, oh, the entire way. The best time he'd ever made getting there was about three and a half hours, which, given it was just past midnight, he was sure he could make just about, but that left a lot of time for doubt.

A lot.

When he stopped for gas, he felt like just going home and going to bed. When he was halfway there and stopped to use the bathroom again, he didn't really have to go, but needed a moment to stop psyching himself out. When he was about ten miles from her place, he almost just went to a motel and crashed till morning, when he'd have a more even head.

But he didn't.

Instead, dead tired and totally out of whack for what he had planned for the next day (he was supposed to go see his mother and father as, of course, time at home was scarce, but he hoped they'd either understand or that he'd come up with a better excuse when he called to cancel the next morning), he arrived at her place.

She lived in one of those stupid gated places, but he knew the code and shit to get in and, when he got out of his car and up tot the front door only to not have his timid knocks answered, he knew where she hid her spare key. Right where he told her not to hide it, inside the flower pot two windowsills down from her door on the right, and that she was gonna get her ass robbed or some shit.

Again, life lesson.

Still, keying into the place felt wrong and, even though she'd asked him to come over, he felt like that extent of that invitation was gone and that he was invading and, shit, was he now one of those intruders he always warned her about?

"Steph?" he called out softly, now backing down, after driving three hours, and hoping he'd find her asleep and he could go home and nope his way out of this stupid, irrational decision that he would never make again, not for her, not for any other woman, and shit, he found her in her bathroom, puking her guts out.

Or at least she had, before, and was still down on the floor, glaring miserably at the toilet it seemed before she heard his approach. He'd knocked at her cracked bedroom door before coming in and, hearing her make a sound in the bathroom, go to find her in there with the door opened, clearly having not had such a good time since they last spoke.

"Paul? What are you doing here?"

"Are you sick?"

"What?"

He was grimacing, even though it was too dark for her to see, because he hated sick. Sick anything. Being sick. Seeing someone else get sick. Being around the sick.

He hated vomit.

Hated it.

"Are you?" Slowly, in the dark as Steph seemed opposed to it as well apparently, he came closer. "Oh. And...you missed the toilet some. That's..."

"Why did you come?"

He felt like vomiting himself. Drunk people was so fucking gross.

Still, he'd come all that way…

"You asked me to."

"But you said- Ugh."

He made an even bigger grimace as she sat up from her slouched position resting against the tub, to leave over the toilet bowl once more. It went against everything he stood for (everything he stood for was basically avoid vomit at all cost; seriously, it was disgusting), but quickly and without thinking, he moved to get down there with her (careful of the puke on the floor, of course, because hey, he didn't care how much he cared about you, that's gross), Paul moved to snatch some of her hair back, so it didn't fall in along with her puke.

It was then that he had a horrible realization that some of it already could have and he was touching it and damn, just how much did he like Stephanie?

Too much.

l

The fact that she would let herself get to so drunk under the pretense of it being a 'fun night out' told him that. That kind of shit wasn't cute. Not even on her.

But…

"I'm sorry," she whined when she slumped back and he only watched, her eyes teary and red. "If I knew you would come-"

"Shuddup, Steph." Getting to his feet, he went to grab a washcloth from where it rested on the sink and ring it out with some cold water. "And hurry up and get that all out of your system, would ya?"

But she was upset now, either from him just being there or from her being sick while he was, Paul wasn't sure which, but that meant tears and a lot of them.

"I just," she sniffled as he ran the cloth across her face and down her neck, "love you. You know? And Daddy doesn't get it and you don't get it and it's not fair that I can feel so much about you, but-" She stopped for some hiccups, but he gave no noticeable signs of listening anyways. Not that she was finished though. "I'll tell him, Paul. That I don't care. Is that what you want? I'll do it. And I'll leave the company. I don't care. I won't have anything to do with it. I just want you."

Is that what he wanted?

Or was it what she thought he wanted?

"We've got," he grumbled, "to stop caring about what the other wants and just focus on what they need."

"I need you."

"No, baby." The cloth was cool against the back of her sweaty neck and Steph recoiled a bit, but he only continued to rub it back there, staring deeply into her glassy eyes. "You want me. And I want you too. But do we need one another? No."

"Paul-"

"You need," he went on as then he then dropped the washcloth and moved to tug off her shirt (he was not sleeping in bed with her if she was wearing something she puked in; no way), "your father and your family. Everyone does. You don't want me more than you need them."

"But-"

"And I," he said as, with her shirt off, he moved to grab the washcloth again, watching her flinch once more from the cold as it met the smooth flesh of her tummy, "need a job."

"Why did you come?" she was trying to push him away then, but he was more persistent than her drunken strength. "To do this again? You're a jerk. You-"

"I also need, Steph," he went on, ignoring her words, "to know for sure that… I'm not saying that I love you. Because I don't."

"Why don't you just leave? You-"

"Shush." Done with the washcloth, he tossed it to the floor again though one of his hands fell to her hip, thumb stroking gently. "How could I love you yet, Steph? You don't even really love me. That's not how it works."

"You don't know."

"No. _You_ don't. You fall in love with everything. A fake, childish, silly love and it hurts, yeah, when it's over, but it's not real. That's not what love is." Even though she was glaring at him, he kept his eyes trained on hers. "But that doesn't mean that it couldn't be real. That we… I just… I dunno, Steph. I like you a lot. More than I probably should, but… I just don't want this to be one of those things that I look back on and just go, 'Shit. That was it,' without ever knowing. I mean, I wanna do what I told you before, for us both to just ignore each other and move on and fine, that would work. Eventually we would. But deep down I...I don't want to let it go without trying. Or because someone else was forcing us to. We might not belong together and that's fine, but what if we are?"

He was done then, but, like over the phone, she was silent. Only staring at him.

Just as he was fearing that she might need to puke, Stephanie only teared up again and said, "I love you."

"I'm so done talking to you drunk." He got to his feet after he finished then. "Do you have to throw up again, do you think? I'm serious, Steph, because if you fucking puke on me-"

"No. I think it's all out of my system."

He didn't believe her, but still reached down to help her up and lead her back to the bed, the woman collapsing into it with some force. Paul only stood over her, sighing as he spotted the wine bottle by her bedside that certainly had contributed along with going out, perhaps even more, to her state.

After moving to get into the bed as well, he made sure she was resting on her side (facing away from him), so she didn't choke on her vomit or whatever before tugging some blankets up around her. Then, after he kicked off his jeans and pulled his shirt over his head, he moved to slip between them as well.

For some reason, perhaps pure exhaustion, it didn't take much for him to drift back off then. He couldn't have slept long, as he didn't quite remember dreaming before the bed shook and he heard a loud groan.

"Get up. What are you- How are you here? And shit, I feel dead."

Blinking awake, he frowned over at Steph who was frowning over at him. Though, he wasn't curled up, holding his stomach.

"You called me," he said after taking a moment to recall this himself.

"Are you serious?"

"Very."

She groaned then and he wasn't sure if it was because her stomach was still bothering her, that faithful post night over the toilet headache had finally started kicking in, or because it was pretty mortifying, when you think about it. Not realizing you'd call what could be described as an ex, intoxicated, and somehow winding up in bed with them.

"Did we..." She peeked an eye open. "Did we sleep together?'

"Shit, Steph, you were a few more sips of that wine over there from passing out. I wouldn't do that to you." Shifting onto his side, he whispered, "You smelled like barf." When she didn't say anything, he only reached out to gently pat her cheek. "That wouldn't happen anyways. You know that."

"What'd I tell you?" she muttered, not shoving his hand away as his thumb raked across her skin. "To get you here?'

"You said you loved me."

"What?" She shifted back, away from him a bit. "P-Paul-"

"It's okay."

"No, it's not. I-"

"Just lay back."

"I shouldn't have called you." But she did nuzzle deeper into her pillow. The hand on her stomach came up then to rub at her forehead. Softly came a feeble request of, "But can you get me water?"

"In a minute." Watching her for a second, he said, "Are you mad that I'm here?"

"Paul-"

"Because I'm not."

He was a master of getting her quiet recently, it seemed, and it worked once more.

"Everything's been so weird, recently, and I feel upside down half the time, but mostly I just… I've spent a lot of time alone, recently, thinking about shit and last night, after you called me, I just...I just figured it out. I think. Or at least… I wanna be with you, Steph, and you wanna be with me. But it's not just that. I… I need to know. I have to. If we're...special or something or- This was so much better when you were drunk and I was dead tired. I swear."

"Just get to the point." She closed her eyes tighter then. "Please."

"I'mma tell Vince that...if he doesn't think we can work together, that he can get over this, that whatever it is that's causing him to hate this so much, then… Maybe I just have to leave. And we'll be together and-"

"You can't do that." Her eyes sure were open then. "I don't want you to. I-"

"I'm not gonna do it for you." She'd lazily reached out for him as she spoke, but Paul only grabbed her hand in his, his deadpan face a contrast to her one filled with concern. "I'm doing it for me. I need to. That's my point. If we don't work out just because that's how life is, fine. That's how it goes. But if I miss out on something because of Vince-"

"And if you miss out on your job?"

"I'm not missing anything. I've done everything."

"You have not."

"Everything I dreamed of."

"You don't… You're not thinking."

"And you're not talking me out of it." Pushing up then, he moved to get out of bed. "I'll get you some aspirin and water, huh? I-"

"Paul, I'm not going to let you lose your job because of me." Stephanie only shoved up on one hand, but considering, that actually meant a lot. "That's stupid. We both agreed-"

"You call me, Steph." He stopped by the bedroom door to glare back at her. "At least once a week, talking about-"

"I hadn't in, like, basically two."

"Yeah, before you got wasted and called me crying, talking about how much you missed me and wanted me here and-"

"I was drunk."

"Were you lying?"

That time she wasn't silent, but it was soft when she whispered, "No."

"I'm under contract," he reminded Stephanie then. "And in the middle of a story line. What's he going to do? Suddenly make me disappear? Try to make my life hell in the ring? He's done it before and I've gotten over it. Or break the contract? He won't do that. And I don't care if he does. Any of it. I… I panicked, at first, when he told us to just knock it off. To stay away from one another. I'm so used to doing what he wants. But… He can control what I do at work, but not who I do at home."

"I thought you said that since we work together, and he's the boss, he can do that?"

Making a face over at her, he asked, "I thought you didn't remember last night, Stephie?

She blushed and shrank back a bit, falling to the bed once more. "I mean, I remember bits of it."

"This," he told her with a shake of his head, "is just something I have to do."

"I'm not going to let you lose your job. Or screw your position in the company. Or-"

"I thought I made it clear that no one tells me what to do?"

"Paul-"

"Just lay back down. You're gonna feel like shit all day. Why start early on it?" He was heading out of the room then. "I'll be back with some aspirin."

For Steph, it felt like everything was happening at a blurring pace. She only half remembered calling Paul the night before and certainly didn't remember her showing up at her place. Now, here he was, after blowing her off every other time she'd called, to tell her that he was down if she was down. Nee, whether she was down or not. Somehow it had morphed from just her wanting them to be together and hoping that he did too into him, apparently, mixing his anger over being bossed around by, well, one of his bosses, and his fear over possibly never getting another chance to find out if the two of them should truly be together or not.

It was weird, but Steph felt equally as hurt that her feelings in the matter didn't make much of a difference to the man as well as quite relieved to know that, at the least, his were somewhat in the same place as hers. That he wasn't doing something because he felt pressured into it. But that he too felt what she felt, perhaps in a different way, but just as strongly.

There was something between them. And they both knew it. Both confirmed it now. Maybe not something permanent, but how idiotic would it be to decide without true knowledge that it never could be.

Had she not been hungover, she might have been more freaked or excited or even cared a bit more, but as it was, she wasn't feeling well and there was no talking him out of his decision, so she more or less just gave up and hoped she'd have time to fix it all later.

"Did you really come all the way down here from New Hampshire?"

Steph asked this later that day as, since she apparently had nothing to do (or so he assumed; she'd made no mention of anything and, well, he wasn't bitching about it), they found themselves in the living room, blinds all drawn, Paul watching TV and her resting with her head in his lap.

"Yeah," he said with a nod. Glancing down at her, he said, "I's already asleep, even."

"And something I said over the phone made you… I mean, I don't remember the whole thing, but I thought you hung up on me? Or-"

"I did. You were doing that whiny, crying thing again."

"I don't whine."

"You're whining right now."

"I'm sick."

"You're not sick. You're hungover."

"Same thing."

"Not at all."

"Hypocrite."

"I've never called you drunk and never made you hold my hair back as I piked my guts out, so I'd love to know how I'm-'

"You did that?"

"I didn't, was the point."

"No." She blinked up at him then. "You held my hair back for me?"

"Shuddup." He turned the baseball game up. "You're on my nerves."

She didn't grin (her head hurt too much for that), but she wasn't grimacing as much as she shut her eyes once more. Softly, she asked, "Did you not have somewhere to be today?"

"I was gonna go over to my parents for lunch, but-"

"Are you serious?"

"I'mma tell them I had something work related to deal with."

"Lying to your mother?" she muttered. "You?"

"Not lying." His eyes were on the television once more as he said, "I'm going to call your dad today and-"

"What?"

"-tell him that I'm with you and if that means he's not with me anymore, that's fine. Better to get it out of the way so that-"

"Can't you wait till tomorrow?"

And give himself time to come to his senses? "Nope."

"You should do it face to face. At least."

"Fine. Call and find out where he is. If he's at home, tell him we're coming over."

"What? No. I'm not-"

"It's happening today, Steph, so you might as well just get over it. You put this into motion. Accept the consequences."

Groaning, she rolled over then, to bury her head into his thigh. "Why can't things just go back to how they were?"

He thought for a moment, Paul did. Then, reaching over to grab his glass of water from where it sat on the tiny table beside the couch, he said, "Because, baby, that's not how life works. It'll be better for us anyways. I wanna be with you. Openly be with you. Fuck everyone else. What do they know?"

"If you do this, Paul, we really can't go back now."

"You're too indecisive. You know that?" Taking a sip of his drink, he added, "And we already can't. Might as well go all the way."

"And if you do lose your job? Or Daddy makes you do stupid shit until you quit? Or just takes you off TV completely?"

Again, he had some pause, but not for long as, with some confidence, he said, "Then I got to make money, doing what I wanted. I go to be a fucking wrestler in one of the top companies for years. I had some of the best and worst experiences in my life. If it's time to move on, fine." Softly grinning, he added, "And most importantly, I just met my new girlfriend who I hope to be with for a long time. If the business doesn't fit into that, then it just doesn't. I wanna be with you."

"More than you want to be in the WWF?"

"More than I want anything right now."

"Right now," she muttered as he gently patted her on the back of the head. "You said right now."

"I did."

"What about tomorrow?"

"Can't worry about tomorrow, babe. Can only worry about today."

"I don't like this."

"You don't like anything," he remarked. "Until it's all said and done."

Which it wouldn't be for awhile. Vince threw a big fit, that day, over the entire thing and Paul second guessed just what he was doing, if Steph didn't even want him to put himself in that position in the first place. But he'd made his choice and that next day, Vince was a bit better about it. Bitter, but better.

Still, it wasn't truly finished until about a month later, he was sitting in a hospital bed and his wrestling career was decided not by Vince, but his body.

He'd torn a quad and that was it. It was over.

Laying there a few nights later, after the surgery and in a hotel room that he would end up be sentencing to for the next few months while rehabbing in Alabama, with Steph beside him, sleeping, it was finally coming down on him.

What all that he'd just lost.

He was all smiles for them, backstage right after it happened and the following days when he was getting examined, even before and after the surgery. He didn't mention what they all knew in their hearts.

People didn't come back from torn quads.

He was just done.

It was over.

Some sort of fate mixed with universal judgment had been cast against him and now, after putting everything on the line for Stephanie, he was gonna lose wrestling anyways.

And, he was able to admit only to himself, glancing over at the sleeping woman, who was so supportive at the moment and caring, he was going to lose her eventually too. She'd be out doing her shit with the company and he'd be in one place, an out of reach place, and their relationship once more wasn't going to end because they weren't a fit for one another, but just because something was going to keep them apart.

"Mmmm," Steph groaned as he reached over to stroke at her cheek, getting her blue eyes to blink open. Hardly awake, she whispered, "Did you want somethin'?"

"No," he breathed, head titled to the side to watch her. It was dark in the room and he knew he should get some rest, that she needed hers as well, as she'd be leaving the next day for work. But..."I just...need you."

"Mmmm." Grinning, she was able to push up a bit and rest her head closer to his, allowing the man to press a kiss to the top of it. "Same."

* * *

 **To the guest who made that request a few days ago as a review for Tired, that's kind of a personal, deep thing, you know? I don't like to touch on those sorts of things, so I won't be able to do it for you. Maybe ask someone else? I dunno. If you want something else though, just ask.**

 **And yes, I will be getting back to requests soon. Swear.**


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